Starting a Fire
by The Blearing Phoenix
Summary: When Cinna sees Katniss on his television screen he is struck with the suddenness of inspiration to not only design unique apparel, but to help Katniss make a lasting impression. Follow the stylist and the girl on fire as they navigate their complex relationship. Set during THG primarily. (Formatted as a series of one-shots)
1. 1 rebel

pairing: Kinna (Katniss/Cinna)

rating: various

word length: 500-1000 word length drabbles

order: random

summary: a series of prompts chronicling the complex relationship between cinna, the stylist and his tribute: katniss, the girl on fire. takes place primarily during thg. reviewers are encouraged to suggest prompt ideas for my consideration.

title: rebel

* * *

He watches the screen flicker to life and swirls the ambrosial liquor against the reflective inside of his wine glass. He's transfixed by the dark pallor that is District 12-the sea of people swelling and surging to life around a plain wooden platform. Their gray banner flutters wildly in the burgeoning power of the wind.

"Watching for what might be your latest Tribute?" Portia settles next to the androgynous stylist in the plush white recliner before the mounted television set.

"Something like that, yes," the stylist takes a controlled sip of the liquid in question and winces as it burns and slides down the column of his throat. He'd picked District 12 for a reason. They had tried ever so vainly to coerce him into a better District "you're too talented," they'd said. "Why would you _ever_ want to work with such a difficut District? They're not exactly renowned for turning out memorable Tributes," they'd scoffed at him snidely. He'd said he'd known but he insisted on _this_ District.

He'd insisted that promise glimmered beneath the veiling of coal dust and the perpetual smog staining the skyline.

He'd insisted.

"Primrose Everdeen," Effie Trinket's controlled Capitol accent rings out like a tinny bell over the crowd. There is the small fair-haired girl stepping out: her footsteps cautious and hesitant. She looks like a flower bending to the wind-like her namesake. She looks malleable. Then there is the sister-dark-haired, her thick hair wound in tightly wound plaits. There she is in a plain blue frock screaming that she'll "volunteer" as Tribute. She's a firecracker and the stylist, "Cinna," as Portia tries to call him out of his reverie-Cinna resolves to be the spark to her rousing flame. He will light her embers to life.

"Portia?"

"Cinna?" Cinna's female cohort smiles knowingly. She's one of the few people he allows to take a glimpse into the inner workings of his mind.

"Would you pass me my sketchbook please?"

"Is she the one?" Portia gestures to the girl known as 'Katniss' swallowing her fear, anxiousness and hunger on the crystalline screen.

But Cinna says nothing, only raising his hand to silence an amused Portia. He's already busy at work, jotting down notes, his dark hand a dizzying blur against the stark whiteness of the pages from his sketchbook. Portia chuckles. Katniss is selected as female Tribute for District 12. Cinna's mind turns, works and crackles to life.


	2. 2 muse

pairing: Kinna (Katniss/Cinna)

rating: various

word length: 500-1000 word length drabbles

order: random

summary: a series of prompts chronicling the complex relationship between cinna, the stylist and his tribute: katniss, the girl on fire. takes place primarily during thg. reviewers are encouraged to suggest prompt ideas for my consideration.

* * *

title: muse

"Hello Katniss, my name is Cinna and I'm your stylist," he should've been more reserved. His palms should've been sweating and he should've been completely unprepared for this. The raven-haired girl from District 12 was his very first Tribute. But Cinna was none of those things, instead he was undoubtedly ready to complete his task.

"Hello," her voice wavered, not at all like the audible plea of desperation ringing throughout the Square. The girl who stood before him now dwarfed the young woman he'd seen a few days ago. What day had it been? A Tuesday?

"Just give me one moment okay?" A tiny barely visible nod was the young stylist's only indication that his Tribute had heard him.

Cinna's job was to reveal her to Panem and leave his fellow citizens with an imprint of her face in their minds. His job was to make them remember her and as he circled her lithely body he intended to do just that. Octavia, Flavius and Venia had already stripped the young quiet girl of all of her body hair; she was completely bare and exposed for him. The cool air made her skin erupt into gooseflesh, what little fine vellus hairs she had left over were raised. The cool air must've made her skin sting.

"I'm sorry that this happened to you," Cinna couldn't think, watching the demure girl flinch under his perceptive gaze. He admired the handiwork of tightly wound plaits, the intricacy, the delicacy and practiced hands that had no doubt made beautiful art out of her hair. There was familial tenderness in the elaborate hairstyle the girl wore.

"Your hair ... who styled it for you?"

"My mother."

Hurt laced her voice. The girl-no _Katniss_ was of the coal mines, her hair as black as the coal dust that defined her district, her eyes a cool stormy shade of gray. In her wildness and her youth she was beautiful, in her rawness-the bitten nails that couldn't be filed down any further-the moles marring her skin, the fading discoloration of scars-there was beauty in all of that. There was beauty in all of that Cinna noted.

"It's very beautiful, it's wonderful really," and he had meant it and the his voice cracked because he'd felt something that he was sure she was feeling. He could empathize with her in some way. He would make her rise from those ashes and soar.

"So ... you're going to make me pretty ..."

"No," Cinna looked squarely in those distrustful gray eyes flecked with green, brightened by apprehension and said, "... it's my job to make you have a lasting impression."

He vowed to do just that and the tiniest hint of a smile rose to the girl's chapped lips.


End file.
